


One More Night

by samajama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Casual Sex, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, M/M, Marking, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:51:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samajama/pseuds/samajama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Club AU; One Direction star Harry Styles meets Louis at a gay club near his flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Night

**Author's Note:**

> Title and original concept from the Maroon 5 song of the same name.  
> This is a work of _fiction_ and I do not own nor am I associated with One Direction or their affiliates.  
> [Trigger Warning for the dub con (spoilery!!), hover to see!](/)

Harry shouldn’t be heading to The Factory again.  He _knows_ he shouldn’t be, but he is.  You see, Harry’s got himself a bit of a problem.  And that problem’s name is Louis Tomlinson.

Harry sits on his bed, waiting for a reasonable time to go out, and thinks back to last Friday.  He feels his trousers growing tighter as he rouses the memory of meeting Louis.

_He’s been drinking and dancing for a while already, his white tee sweat-soaked and his curls clinging to the back of his neck.  He deposits his empty bottle on the bar and backs into something solid, or rather, some **one**.  Harry starts to apologize, but the body behind him laces his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him back into the crowd._

_Once they’ve been engulfed by the mass of people, the boy lets Harry turn around.  He’s met by bright blue eyes, glazed over from intoxication and lust.  His stringy brown hair is plastered to his forehead, falling into his eyes.  He looks to be about the same age as Harry, slightly shorter.  “Hello, superstar.  Fancy seeing you here.”_

_“You know who I am, then?” Harry sighs, pulling away._

_The other boy catches his wrist.  “No, wait.  You think I give a fuck if you’re famous?”  Harry shrugs.  “I’m Louis.”  He holds out his hand.  “Louis Tomlinson.”_

_“Harry.”_

_“Pleasure, Haz.  Now, dance with me.”_

Harry warms at the memory of the nickname.  He presses the heel of his hand into his now fully-hard dick.  He palms himself, stroking lazily at the thought of how the rest of their night went.

He knows he probably shouldn’t have hooked up with him, and he _definitely_ shouldn’t be thinking about it.  Still.  And he certainly shouldn’t be wanking to the thought of it.  Again.  It’s not like Harry can be tied down to someone, especially some _guy_.  But, _man_ , the sex was fantastic.

 _The sex, ironically enough, happens in a closet at the club._ In retrospect _, Harry thinks,_ probably not the most sanitary of options.  Better than a bathroom, though.  _The boys continue dancing, constantly shifting positions, never quite letting go of one another.  Louis has his back pressed to Harry’s chest and starts doing this **thing** with his hips that has Harry hard in an instant.  He swivels his hips one last time before he takes Harry’s hand and pulls him toward the coat check._

_* * * * *_

_Louis is on his knees in front of Harry, whose hands are pulling at Louis’s hair.  He tentatively thrusts his hips toward Louis’s eager mouth, and the other boy takes it in stride.  In fact, Louis chooses this moment to press forward, meeting Harry’s thrust, taking him almost completely in his mouth.  Harry whimpers and goes to continue the motion, but Louis begins pulling off of him._

_“’the hell, mate?  I’m not sure you were aware, but you were giving some **excellent** fucking head.”_

_The shorter boy smiles coyly.  “Oh, I’m aware,” he breathes into the shell of Harry’s ear, “but I want you to fuck me now.”_

_Harry’s mouth drops open a little and he nods.  “Do you have a c- ?”  Louis slides the condom out of his pocket, holding it up with two fingers._

_“No lube though, ‘m afraid.”_

_“That is...so more than okay.”  Harry spins Louis around and presses him into the wall.  He reaches around his waist to unbutton his trousers and yank them down.  Harry’s too impatient to take his time teasing, so he spreads him with his hands and laps at Louis’s entrance immediately._

_He sucks on his own two fingers for a moment before returning with his tongue.  He presses inside, lost in the scent of the boy in front of him.  He eases off and replaces his tongue with his first finger, then another, then, “Please tell me you’re ready because I can’t wait any longer.”_

_“Please,” Louis whines._

_Harry takes the proffered condom and rolls it onto himself.  “Are you- ?”_

_“Just fuck me, Hazza.  I’ve been ready for your dick since I saw you walk in tonight.”  With that, Harry lines himself up and slides into Louis, curling his chest around his back.  “Harder, Harry, I want to fucking feel it tomorrow.”  Harry thrusts harder, faster, gasping into Louis’s neck._

_He mumbles, “I’m really close, Lou.”_

_“Then get off.”_

_“What?”  Harry asks, sure he hadn’t heard correctly.  Louis gently swats Harry’s hips, which have stilled, away.  He pulls out and Louis turns around, his back now to the wall, and reaches forward for Harry’s dick._

_Harry raises a questioning brow to which Louis responds simply, “I want to see you when I come.”_

Harry screams, literally _screams_ , as he comes over his own chest.  He falls back onto his pillow, not caring about the mess, and for once he’s so glad he lives alone.

So, yeah, Harry thinks about that night a lot.  Two weeks have passed, and Harry’s heading to The Factory again.  He’s not going for any reason in particular; he just wants to go out.  He likes this club.  He’s certainly not hoping to see Louis again, but if he does, well, so be it.  Maybe he’ll get another blowjob.

* * * * *

He steps into his taxi, his mind drifting back to the memory of that night again. 

_In his post coital haze, before he could even wipe Louis’s come off his stomach where his shirt had been pushed up, he leans in to kiss him.  Louis turns his cheek, “There’s no need for that, mate.  I know who you are; I know what this was.  No need for pleasantries, yeah?”  Harry’s grateful for his understanding, but he can’t help but feel some disappointment._

Harry muses that maybe he should have some sort of ‘no kissing’ rule with his hook ups.  Kissing is so...emotional.  And emotions are _not_ what he needs right now.  So that’s it: no more kissing. 

* * * * *

Harry leaves Liam standing at a table so he can grab a drink.  As he waits for the bartender, he scans the crowd.  He’s _not_ looking for Louis; he’s just...people-watching.  But then, he _does_ see Louis, and Louis doesn’t see him.  Louis, who happens to be chatting someone up, someone who happens to be... Liam?  Liam, who Harry dragged out because he didn’t want to pathetically show up at the club alone.  Liam, who was newly single.

Harry takes a deep breath.  Liam was still very straight, and Liam wouldn’t do that to him, straight or not.  Harry sees Liam shaking his head, but still smiling good-naturedly.  And it’s stupid, God he _knows_ he’s being stupid, but he can’t help.  He’s jealous.  He is so fucking jealous.

 _Fuck it_ , Harry thinks, and he walks over to them, drink forgotten.  Louis seems surprised to see him, but drinks in his appearance nonetheless.  “Harry,” Liam says in greeting.

“Liam,” Harry mocks.  “Pretty sure he’s not your type, mate.”

Liam laughs.  “You never know,” Louis chimes in, as Liam continues shaking his head.

“I think this is my cue to go.”  Liam waves goodbye to the boys and saunters off to the bar.  Harry gives him a bit of a stink eye as he leaves before returning his attention to Louis.

“Fancy seeing you here again,” Louis remarks.

“I, uh, really like the atmosphere here.  Good music, yeah?”

Louis laughs at him and pats his cheek.  “Mate, there’re a dozen other clubs just like this one.”

Harry shakes his head, smirking at the other boy.  He pulls Louis closer to him; they’re barely moving, but Harry supposes it could still be considered dancing.  He presses his mouth to Louis’s ear so he’s sure he’ll hear him; his hot, moist breath falling as he whispers raggedly, “I can’t fucking stop thinking about you.  I can’t stop thinking about fucking you.”

Louis’s breath hitches and he squeezes Harry’s bicep.  “Did you want to...”  Louis trails off, nodding in the direction of the coat check.

“Not that that wasn’t the most fantastic sex of my life – and believe me, it was – I’d _really_ prefer to fuck in a bed.”

Louis nods.  “Yours or- Mine, we’ll go to mine.”  Harry releases a relieved sigh.  As much as he’d love to offer his own flat, he knows it would be way to ‘suspicious’ for him to bring a guy home, and thankfully, Louis seems to get that.  “Come on, it’s not far.”

Harry texts Liam as they walk.  _I’ve left with Louis, going to his.  Probably won’t be home ‘til morning, I’ll text you when I am._   Liam responds almost immediately, _Alright, mate, have fun. Be safe and be careful, yeah?_ Harry sends back a quick affirmation, wondering why Liam felt the need to say it twice.  He knows Liam’s always been the one to make sure the boys are all right, but he shrugs it off.

* * * * *

They arrive at Louis’s flat, and Harry presses him against the door as soon as it’s closed.  He kisses sloppily along Louis’s jaw and down his neck.  He pushes their hips flush together.

Louis gasps, “We should- Ahh, move.  We should move.”  Harry nods, nosing along Louis’s neck and follows him to his bedroom.  The boys fall gracelessly onto the bed and giggle into each other’s shoulders.

Harry pulls himself on top of Louis, straddling him.  “I want to ride you.  Is that...okay?”  There’s no question in his mind that Louis isn’t up for fucking, but he’s worried the other boy won’t want-

“Yes, oh God yes,” Louis sputters out before Harry can even finish his thought.  Harry releases a sigh of relief and quickly peels off his shirt.

* * * * *

Harry wakes the next morning to Louis snoring softly beside him.  He smiles at the older boy before sliding out of bed.  He hisses as his feet touch the hardwood floor and walks over to retrieve his discarded pants.

Harry finishes dressing and starts toward the bedroom door, but looks back at Louis’s sleeping form guiltily.  He shouldn’t feel guilty; they both knew what this was.  Still, he _does_ feel guilty, and that’s what has him pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket.

He finds a pen on Louis’s bedside table and scrawls his number.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket.  There’s a text from an unknown number: _i had a great time last night, thank you again x._

He smiles to himself and goes to put his phone away as it buzzes again.  Louis’s next text reads, _i usually hang at the factory on fridays around half-eleven._

It’s noncommittal.  It’s not even an invitation, really, just a statement.  Louis’s leaving it up to Harry.  If he wants to come – he laughs to himself at the double meaning there – he can, but he doesn’t have to.  And Louis doesn’t even really seem to care one way or the other.

And Harry is...more bothered by that that he thought he would be, but if Louis doesn’t care, then neither will Harry.  That’s why, come Friday, Harry will find himself drinking himself to sleep alone in his flat, listening to music and watching bad movies.

* * * * *

Next Friday, Harry’s feeling slightly better about the whole situation, so he pulls out his phone and asks Louis if he’ll be going out tonight.  Louis quickly replies that he’s gone out of town, home to his mum’s for the weekend, so he wouldn’t be there.  _I’ll be there next week though xx._

Harry tries not to be disappointed, and decides to go with Plan B instead.

* * * * *

He arrives at the tattoo parlor, drawing in hand.  He had the idea a while ago and he’d had someone draw it for him not long after that.  He’s been holding onto it, waiting for the right moment to get it.  Since his plan for the night fell through – no, not _fell through_ ; the person he _could_ have potentially met up with at his (now) favorite club was busy.

So.  Harry could be busy, too.

* * * * *

He leaves the shop several hours later with soreness in his ribs, but overall, feeling really great about the whole thing.  Harry now has a birdcage tattooed on the left side of his torso.  _Symbolism_ , he thinks to himself.  They couldn’t tell him what to ink on his own skin.  And it’s not like he was putting a giant picture of a dick there or something.  _He_ knows what it means, his boys would, and that’s all the matters.

He couldn’t be free to be himself because of this fucking life he has, so he’s going to be himself as much as he can.  If that means putting ink on his skin, then that’s what he’s going to do.

He is getting really fucking tired of being told what to do, who to be seen with, who to date, who to fuck...or at least who _not_ to fuck and who to _pretend_ to be sleeping with.

Really fucking tired.

And _that_ is what made him get his new tat.  Harry has enough free reign to date and sleep with who he wants, but he also knows there are limitations.  Like, he probably can’t _go out_ with a guy, so this is his little bit of rebellion.  And it has absolutely nothing to do with Louis Tomlinson.  Not.  One.  Bit.

* * * * *

The next week drags on, but finally, eventually, after the _excruciatingly long_ week, it’s Friday.  Early in the morning, he rings Liam and asks if he’d like to go out to The Factory that night.  He affirms, but sounds uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks.  “You don’t need to come out with me if you don’t want to.”  He pauses.  “Is this because it’s a gay club?”

“No!  No, not at all, man.  I was just wondering why you wanted to go _there_ specifically.”  Harry flushes.  He usually hits up four or five different clubs in a month, rotating between them.  He likes to branch out, and it’s less likely he’ll be spotted this way.

“I just...like it there, that’s all.”

“Styles, I’m not an idiot.  Is this about that guy?  Louis?”

Harry scoffs.  “Of course not.  He’s just some guy.”

“So why can’t you find ‘some’ other guy?”

Harry winces slightly because _ow_ that hurt more than it should have.  “Listen, why should I find some other guy?  Lou knows what I like and isn’t it better and _safer_ if I’m sleeping with the same guy?”

Liam reluctantly agrees.

* * * * *

Harry spots Louis almost instantly and shoots Liam a look, telling him to scram.  Harry ambles over to where Louis is standing and pulls him into a sloppy hug.  “Long time, no see,” he breathes.

Louis smiles as he pulls away and offers Harry some of his drink, which he accepts.  The boys dance for a few songs, and then Harry grabs Louis’s shirt to pull him into the back room.

It was once an extra bathroom, but now it just served as a room for couples to have some privacy.  It isn’t quite the comfort of Louis’s bed, but it would do.  Harry presses Louis into the wall and grinds their hips together, while starting to suck marks into Louis’s neck.

“I’ve missed this,” Harry whispers.  “I’ve missed...you.  Is that weird?”

“No, I- I know what you mean,” Louis pants.

“I want to blow you.”  Louis nods and Harry lowers himself to kneel in front of the other boy.  He pops the button on Louis’s trousers and pulls down the zipper with his teeth.  He releases a hot breath over the outline of Louis’s dick, bulging from his briefs.  Harry licks a stripe up the cotton and pulls Lou’s pants down with his teeth as well.

He repeats the path, this time feeling the sticky heat of Louis’s skin on his tongue.  Harry swirls his tongue around the head before taking him deep right off.  He pumps Louis thoroughly with his mouth steadily for a few minutes until his hips start moving frantically.  Harry sucks him through his orgasm, hearing Louis cry his name.  He pulls off with a smile on his lips.

* * * * *

Not long after Harry arrives home, he receives a text: _i’ll be there again tomorrow night if you’re up for round 2 x_

Harry smiles in spite of himself.  Fuck, he was so _gone_ over this boy.  But he supposes going out two nights in a row couldn’t hurt.

* * * * *

He doesn’t invite Liam to come with him tonight, but shoots him a text to let him know he’s going out anyway.  _Be safe, be careful_ , his response reads.  Harry shakes his head and enters the club.

This time Louis sees Harry first and comes up behind him, twining his arms around his waist and kissing his neck.  Harry smiles and squeezes his hands, going to order Louis a drink, but he shakes his head.

Louis pulls Harry to the dance floor and leads them together with his hands on Harry’s hips.  They dance sinuously occasionally kissing and nipping at the other’s neck.  Louis slides his hands over the swell of Harry’s ass and asks if he wants to go back to his flat.

Harry swallows.  He wants to.  He _really, really_ wants to.  He’s not sure he has ever wanted to do anything more than stumble back to Louis’s and fuck until he won’t be able to move tomorrow but...  He can’t.  And he _knows_ he can’t.

He knew when he left that this was part of the reason he came out tonight.  Harry’s been coming to depend on sex with Louis.  And the sex...well, it’s fucking great, _easily_ the best sex he’s ever had, but that’s why it needs to stop, so he tells him, “Lou, this has been great and all, but I really can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I _can’t_.  I feel like I need to quit you cold turkey.  Believe me, being with you has been fan-fucking-tastic.  And not just the sex, although, I mean, _yeah_ , that’s been other worldly, but just _being_ with you has been great.  But I just keep telling myself, ‘Okay, one more night.  One more time.  I’ll stop, we’ll stop.  I _can_ stop.’  But I don’t, Lou.  I don’t stop, I haven’t stopped.”  He releases a short breath and looks down at his shoes, waiting for Louis to respond.

“So this is it, then?”  Harry glances up, nodding.  “This is you stopping.”  It doesn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry...”

“You’re sure?”

Harry sighs harshly.  “Fuck.  _Yes_ , Lou.  Can’t you see this is killing me here?  I have enjoyed literally every second I’ve spent with you, but I’m not that guy.  I’m not the guy who brings someone home to his family or the boys.  Fuck, I’m not the guy that _comes_ home to someone.”  He pauses, running a hand through his hair, feeling conflicted.  “Plus, I’m never around anyway.  We’re always going off and touring and doing a million and one publicity things.  And this, us, fuck, we’re _not_ even an ‘us.’  We’re just two guys who happen to fancy one another and actually do something about it, yeah?  But I just... I want to come _here_.  I want to see _you_.  I want to _leave_ with _you_.  Fuck, I _want_ you.  But don’t you get it?  That’s exactly why I can’t do this tonight or at all.  I can’t...”

“You don’t want to be with me tonight?”

“I- No, that’s not what I- Jesus, just _no_ , Louis, that’s what I’m fucking saying, aren’t you listening to me?”

“Oh, I’m listening.  I _hear_ you saying, ‘No, no, no,’ but,” Louis trails off, sliding his hand between their hips, and cups Harry’s evidently hard cock, “I don’t think you really mean that.”

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, and tries to hold his resolve, but it’s fading fast.  Before he can even think about it, before he can one again list the approximately thousand of reasons he shouldn’t so it, he whispers, “Fuck it,” and leans in, kissing Louis for all he’s worth.

He puts everything into it.  It’s the start of the promise, the breaking of one.  It’s ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I’ve missed you.’  It’s ‘I don’t know what I want’ and it’s ‘I want _you_.’  Louis pulls away to take Harry’s hand, leading him outside, toward his flat.

* * * * *

They stumble inside the door and are barely in before Louis pushes Harry up against the door and starts kissing down his neck.

Harry giggles into Louis’s hair, “Come on, let’s go to your room.”  Louis nods and takes his hand, pulling him back toward the bedroom.  “Can I fuck you again, like the first time?”

Louis nods.  “Just... Not against the wall this time.  I want you to fuck me into the mattress.  I want to see you, so I can look into your eyes while you’re fucking me.

 _No, no, no,_ Harry thinks, _This is so **not** what I should be doing.  But **fuck** , do I want to._  The thought of seeing Louis fall apart, melting beneath him, _because_ of him, his touch has him nodding before he knows what he’s doing.

He pulls Louis’s braces off his shoulders and begins unbuttoning his shirt from the top.  Once he reaches the bottom, he slides his hands in his trousers and pulls his shirt tails out, hands lingering on Louis’s waist, before sliding the shirt off his shoulders. 

Harry leans forward to unbutton Louis’s trousers next, but he stops him.  “It’s my turn.”  Harry lowers his gaze, chuckling, but nodding.  Louis slides his hands up Harry’s sides, fingertips dragging along the cotton of his t-shirt, slithering up his arms, pulling them above his head until he reaches his hands.  He tangles their fingers together and kisses Harry on his lips, capturing his upper lip between both of his own.

“You missed something, I think,” Harry whispers into Louis’s hair, gesturing down to his shirt, still on, with his head.

“’s practice,” Louis smirks, trailing his hands down the same path, this time catching the hem of Harry’s shirt.  He brings the tee and pulls it over his head.

The boys rake their eyes up and down the other’s body until Harry says, “Okay, I really need to take these trousers off or I’m gonna come in my pants.”  Louis laughs cheekily and takes mercy on the younger boy.  He cups Harry’s face and languidly kisses him, fingers teasing with the button of his jeans.  (Okay, maybe “mercy” isn’t the best word.)  “Lou, _please_.”

Louis finally opens Harry’s trousers and slides them along with his underwear down his legs.  Harry steps out of them, completely bare before the other man.  Harry reaches out and pulls Louis’s hips flush with his own, hissing as his cock meets the fabric of Louis’s chinos.

“Why don’t I let you see me first, yeah?” Louis raises his eyebrows.  Harry nods, backing off.  Louis takes off his own pants and Harry sucks in a gasp of air.  He’d seen the other boy naked before, of course, but it all felt so different now, so much more real.  Their encounters before had be hot and fast and dirty, but this time they’re taking it slow, taking each other in, and Harry wants to revel in every moment of this.

He closes in on the other boy, backing him toward the bed.  Louis lies back and Harry follows, straddling his legs.  He fists their cocks together and there’s just on the right side of too much friction.  Louis clenches his jaw and begins biting his lower lip to the point of bruising, barely letting out a whine.

“Hey, none of that.  I want to hear you.”  Louis releases his lips and moans, locking eyes with Harry before pinching them shut.  Harry leans down to kiss the boy below him, then asks against his lips, “Lube?”

“Drawer,” Louis replies nodding to the nightstand on Harry’s left.  He retrieves it quickly, dripping some down his first three fingers and rubbing them together to warm in up.  He sucks on Louis’s bottom lip once more before kissing down his body.  He catches one of his nipples with his teeth and continues nibbling and licking down his chest.  When he reaches his legs, he presses a kiss to Louis’s inner thigh and starts rubbing at his perineum with his lubed fingers.

Harry coaxes another moan out of Lou, “Harry, _plea_ -”  He cuts the word off with another groan of pleasure as Harry slides his first finger in.

“God, you feel so good, Lou.  I don’t think I could ever get tired of touching you like this, seeing you like this.  You’re so fucking beautiful.”  Harry could almost slap himself.  _Beautiful?  What guy wants to be told he’s **beautiful**?_

“Thanks, Hazza,” Louis breathes.  “You don’t look to bad yourself, if I might add.”  They smile at one another, shyly almost, which is hilarious considering the position they’re in right now.  “Harry?”

“Hm?”  Harry questions, still smiling bemused at the wrecked boy.

Louis shifts his hips, pressing farther onto Harry’s slick finger.  “I need more.”  Harry happily obliges, sliding a second finger in to meet the first.  Louis twists uncomfortably for a moment, adjusting to the new intrusion, but before long, he’s pressing on Harry again, begging, “More, more please.  You feel so good, Harry.”

Harry slides his third finger in, and it takes Louis even less time to adjust.  He presses against Harry’s fingers almost immediately.  “Harry, please.  I want you.  I just want you.”

He slips his fingers out slowly, trying to ignore Louis’s hiss at the loss.  He leans forward above the smaller man and kisses him deeply.  He threads his non-lubed hand through his stringy hair, sliding their cocks together once again.  “Please,” Louis begs again.

Harry nods and grabs a condom from the drawer as well, but Louis’s shaking his head.  “What’s wrong?”

“Do you... Can we... Without?”

Harry looks down at the condom in his hands.  “Um,” he replies, lamely.  He’d always be taught to be so careful.

Louis seems to sense his hesitance, so he adds, “Listen, I’m clean and whatever, and I haven’t been with anyone else since we... yeah... So...can we?”

“I- Me either.  And I’m always safe, so, um.  I guess?  Yeah.  Yeah, I think I’d like to.”  Louis lets out a small sigh of relief.  Harry pours more lube on his hand, slicks himself up, and lines up with Louis’s entrance, “You ready, baby?”  He internally cringes at the nickname.  He usually hates it, but it just felt right.  He’s hoping Louis isn’t put off by it.

Louis’s lips curl up as he nods, “I like it when you call me that.”  Harry laughs softly, and begins pushing his hips forward, feeling Louis’s tight heat as he takes him in.  He thrusts almost agonizingly slowly.  After a few strokes, he snaps his hips on the thrust, bottoming him out.  They both groan at the closeness.

“I’m not gonna last long, ‘m ‘fraid,” Harry mumbles into the crook of Louis’s neck.

“Me either,” Louis confesses.  “Kiss me?”  Harry indulges him.  He licks into Louis’s mouth, sliding their tongues together as Louis comes.  Louis screams something breathy that resembles his name into Harry’s mouth.  He comes a second later, but doesn’t break the kiss.  He pulls out of Louis and still doesn’t break it.

And suddenly the kiss starts to feel a whole lot like a promise again.  Harry trails his hands up and down Lou’s ribcage and flips them so Louis is on top of him.  He starts sucking on Harry’s tongue and his hips thrust up; he can feel himself trying to harden again even though he’s still way too sensitive.  He moans and finally, _finally_ pulls out of the kiss to mumble, “Fuck, you’re a great kisser.”

Just as the words come out of his mouth, it hits him: He kissed Louis.  He’s _been_ kissing Louis.  Louis’s been _letting him_ kiss him.  The question must show on his face because Louis is already responding, “I guess we’re both breaking our rules tonight.”

Harry combs his fingers through Louis’s hair, pushing it back, so he can see his face.  “I- I should probably go?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than he intends.

“Okay.”  Harry sighs.  That’s what he needed to hear.  That it was okay.  That he _should_ leave.  Maybe he’d see Louis again, but he should never go back to that club.  Tonight was absolutely perfect, the most perfect he could ever imagine but... He really shouldn’t see him anymore because Louis was so much more than a random fuck on a Friday night.  He was- “Or you could stay.”

Oh.  That he hadn’t expected.  And more than that, he doesn’t expect to hear himself saying, “I’d like that.”  Shit.

Harry pulls Louis to him for another kiss and deepens it immediately, but it’s not hot and heated.  He feels like it should be such a sexual act, Louis sliding his tongue in and out of his mouth, but it’s not, it’s just very _intimate_.  He kisses down the column of Harry’s neck, continuing down his body and only stopping when he reaches his ribs.

“This is...new,” he murmurs into his skin.

“Yeah, I got it done last Friday.”

“Oh?”  Harry hums, Louis stroking his hair, asking, “Last _Friday_?”

Harry huffs a laugh.  “Yeah?  Is there something wrong with getting tattoos on Fridays?”

“No, not at all,” Louis rushes.  “Just- You got it while I was away?”

“I- Um, yes?”  Louis just stares at him.  “I’d been planning on getting it for months.  When you said you wouldn’t be at The Factory, I- Well, to be honest, I didn’t really feel like going out anymore.  So.  There you go.”

“Hm,” Louis replies.

“What!”

“You went out and got a tattoo because you missed me,” Louis says smugly.

“I did _not_!” Harry defends.  “I mean, I wanted to get it, and I mean, I _did_ , but that’s not why, I mean-”  Harry takes a breath and starts over, “I wanted to get the tattoo, so I got it because I wanted to do that rather than go out and be miserable all night because yes, I did miss you.  Okay?  Are you happy?  I said it.”

“You missed me.”

“ _Yes_.  Okay, can we move on no- ?”

Louis cuts in, “I missed you too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, like, _way_ more than I thought I would.  My mum asked me if I was getting sick or something because I was moping around all weekend.  I almost called you so many times but...”  He shrugs, shaking his head.

“Me too.”  Harry wouldn’t have admitted it, even to himself really, but if he’s being honest, he had found himself palming his phone more often than normal that weekend.  He would unlock it before shoving it right back in his pocket.  Liam had noticed and asked if he was expecting a call; he told him he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I- Louis, I-”  He sighs again.  “I don’t know if I can do this _whatever_ we’re doing here.  I mean what I said, I don’t _want_ to leave tonight, but... maybe I should?  I can’t- I don’t- No.  I _can’t_ do this.  I don’t know how to _be_ someone’s boyfriend.  I don’t know how to be someone who you could depend on and- and I don’t think I could do this to you.  Even if I thought _I_ could- I... We couldn’t- we wouldn’t be able to- And I just-”

Harry feels himself choking up.  He’s never really been a crier, but he’s been thinking about it a lot.  He couldn’t help it really, and it’s not just Louis that’s made him think it.  He’s thought about coming out before, or rather, not being able to come out.  He’s daydreamed of relationships.  Dates with red roses and _gasp!_ monogamy.  Basically, he was not “allowed” to date anyone exclusively.  That wasn’t the image they wanted for him, not now anyway.  Maybe if he _really_ wanted, if he was _really_ into some girl, and he was _really_ committed, they’d let him say he was “in a relationship” – not dating, dating _was_ allowed – with her.  But a guy?  No way.  He couldn’t even be seen dating a guy let alone be in an exclusive relationship with him.  Even if he thought he was boyfriend material (he didn’t), he couldn’t put Louis through all that.

“Hey.  Hey, Hazza, look at me.  It’s okay.”  Louis strokes his thumb over Harry’s cheek.  “Haz, don’t cry.”  And that’s what does it.  He starts crying then, and can’t stop.  Louis drops kisses on his forehead, his cheeks.  He kisses away every single tear he can catch until Harry’s sobbed out.

“Are you okay now?” Louis asks, brushing his fingers underneath Harry’s eyes, wiping the rest of the wetness away.

“No.”

“Talk to me, then.”

Harry sighs.  “I- I still don’t know if I can do this, but... But I think I’d want to try with you.  If you want to, I mean.”

“I...think I do.”

“You do?”

Louis laughs into Harry’s neck, “ _Yes,_ Haz.  Or did you miss the part about me moping around all weekend because I missed you?  I like being with you.  I want to be with you.  And you’re not the only one who needs to be depended on, okay?  It’s a two-way street.  We’ll be depending on each other.  So...we could try?  I’d like to try, I think.”

“I- Okay, but-“

“No buts!  Don’t damn us before we start,” Louis laughs.

“No, seriously, Lou,” Harry insists.  “If we do this, it’s not going to be easy.  It’s going to be a lot of work for the both of us.  We can’t...we can’t do this unless we’re both committed to it.  We can’t- I can’t come out.  Not now.  Well, _they_ don’t want me to at least.  I dunno, but just know that it’s not going to be simple, okay?  Even if it should be.”

“I figured.  Um, it’s not ideal, you’re right.  But I still want to do it, if you do.”

Harry nods.  “I do.”

“Good.  Now, let’s sleep, okay?”  Harry nods again, yawning.  Louis slides off of Harry, pillowing his head on his chest, and they drift to sleep.

* * * * *

The next few weeks are a blur of meetings, most of which start at their club because it’s the easiest place for them to meet, but after two weeks, Harry’s approached with the question he’s been dreading.

“Who is he,” Paul demands.

“Don’t know who you’re talking about, mate.”

He huffs a sigh.  “Harry, we’re not stupid.  We know you’ve been seeing some guy.  We were approached by _The Sun_ last night because someone saw you leaving that gay club with him.  God knows this is only the beginning, so spill.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m seeing someone.”

“ _And?_ ”

“And _nothing_ , Paul.  I have a...”  He pauses.  It still feels a bit weird to say.  “I have a boyfriend.”

“You can’t.”

“What the fuck do you mean I _can’t_?”  Harry yells.

“You can’t...have a boyfriend,” Paul clarifies.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I’m sorry, Styles.  I mean, you don’t have to stop dating him or whatever, but you’re going to need to, uh, clear everything with us first.”

Harry laughs bitterly and snips, “You’re saying I have to ask _your_ permission to ask _my_ boyfriend out?”

“Basically.”  Paul shrugs.

“This is bullshit!”

Paul claps the boy on the shoulder.  “I know.  Listen, if it were up to me, which it’s not, you could do what – or who – ever the fuck you wanted.  But they want to keep up the appearance that you’re not tied down to _anyone_ , especially another lad, yeah?  I’m sorry, mate, really, it’s just the way it is.  Can you call him?  Get him to come here tonight?”

Harry sighs, pulling out his phone.  He sends a quick text to Louis, asking him to come to the studio tonight so they can all have a little chat.

* * * * *

Paul collects all of Louis’s contact information: phone number, email, address, his mum’s mobile as well.  He has Louis sign what seems like fifty non-disclosure forms when he remarks, “And about the show next moth-”

“What show next month?” Louis interjects.  Shit.  Harry had forgotten about that.

Harry smiles apologetically.  “Sorry, I forgot to tell you.  I sort of forgot myself.”

“Right,” Paul joins in.  “Well, he can’t come.”

“What?”  Louis and Harry say simultaneously.  “That’s not fair,” adds Harry, while Louis continues to say, “But I’ve never seen him perform!”

“I asked.  They said no.  Too suspicious.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Paul sighs.  “Fine.”

* * * * *

The next month is filled with relatively simple, albeit sometimes awkward, arrangements. 

_“I would like to invite Louis over to my flat,” Harry murmurs through the phone to Paul, in the most monotone of voices._

_“Why?”_

_“Does it matter?  You always complain when we want to go out.  Isn’t this easier for you?”_

_“But is it like a date or?  If you two are just going to hang out, maybe we can play him up as your mate and you can go out sometimes, then.”_

_“I don’t know if I’d call it a date, per se, but...”_

_“So then, why don’t you two go out tonight?”_

_“Well, I don’t think you’d want us doing what we have planned in public,” Harry laughs._

_“Why?  I thought you said this **wasn’t** a date?”_

_“You tell me, Paul.  Is it still a date if you just get straight to the fucking?”_

_“...I’ll send a car over for him.”_

* * * * *

On the morning of the show, Harry wakes up in Louis’s arms.  He’d invited him over the night before and insisted he stay over, although Louis hadn’t put up much of a fight, anyway.

He presses a kiss to his collarbone, nuzzling his face on the other boy’s chest.  He doesn’t want to get out of bed, leave Louis behind.  He sighs, defeated, knowing he needs to get ready.  Harry ambles to the bathroom, and when he returns, he finds Louis lying in his bed with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“Plotting to be the next Michelangelo?”  Harry chides.  Louis rolls his eyes with a smile and pats Harry’s side of the bed.  Harry sighs again.  “I can’t, baby.  I need to leave for the show soon.”

Louis pouts.  “Would you think less of me if I said I didn’t want you to go?”

“Lou, _I_ don’t want to go.”  He kneels on the bed and gives his boyfriend a lingering kiss.  “Stay here for the day, yeah?  If you’re not busy, I mean.  Help yourself to whatever or just stay in bed all day, I don’t really care.  Can you...be here when I get home?”  Harry knows he sounds a little desperate, but the two have barely spent a day apart since they’ve started dating, regardless of the hoops they’ve been jumping through for management.

“I’ll be here.”

* * * * *

Harry walks backstage and sees Liam, who gives him a concerned look.  He comes over and ruffles Harry’s curls.  “I told you to be careful, Harry.”

“What?”

“To be careful.  With Tommo.”  Harry rolls his eyes at the nickname Liam had come up with for Louis.

“Li, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Liam smiles.  “Louis.  You- Well, it seemed like you might be falling for him.”

“You met him after we’d met, like, once.”

“Yeah, but I also heard you talking about him all week before you saw him again.  You two had a connection.”  Harry shrugs.  “You ready to go?”

Harry looks down at his shoes.  “Honestly?”  He meets Liam’s eyes.  “No.”

He hugs his friend whispering, “It’ll be okay,” and leaves Harry to his thoughts.

Paul walks in just after Liam leaves, and Harry turns to him.  “I don’t think I can go on tonight.  I can’t... I won’t.”

“What?  Harry, please, you’re joking.  Please, tell me you’re joking?”

“No.  I’m not joking.  And I’m not going on.  I’m sorry.  I’ve tried living this charade, but I can’t fucking do it anymore, okay?  I miss my boyfriend, and I wanted him here tonight.  He wanted to support me, and I wanted to see his face in the crowd.  I’m not fucking good at this shit, alright?  I don’t _know_ how to be someone’s boyfriend, but I know this isn’t how you do it: Pushing him away?  That’s not it.  I’m not fucking going on tonight or any other night for that matter until I can fucking be open about the guy I’m in love with!”  He stops then, can’t actually believe what he’s just said.  He hasn’t even told Louis yet, but it’s true, he _does_ love him.  And fuck if that doesn’t make this ten times harder.

“I’m not going on either,” Liam chimes in.  He’d heard the commotion from down the hall, and came to see what Harry was yelling about.

“Neither are we,” says Zayn, pointing to Niall and himself.

Paul throws his hands up in aggravation.  “Well, this is great.  Listen, guys, I get it and _really_ , I’m with you, but people paid for these tickets, we can’t just not have a show.  We’d have to refund all of their tickets.”  He puts his head in his hands, sighing.  He stays like that for a minute, letting the air settle between him and the boys.  “Well,” he starts again.  “I think there's only one thing to do then, if you’re up for it.”

Harry, still looking defeated asks, “And what’s that?”

“Come out.”

“What?!”

Paul smiles.  “It’s about time, Styles. You want to, right? That’s what you’ve always said before.”

“I- Well, _yeah_.  Yes, I do.”

“So, let’s do it.  What's the problem?”

Harry looks worrisome.  “But, what about- I dunno, the fans?  And the boys?  What about them?”

Liam speaks now, “If they don’t still love you or respect you even _more_ for doing this, then fuck ‘em.  We’ll always have other fans, but there’s only one you.”

Harry chokes back the start of tears and hugs his friend, whispering a thank you into his ear.  “Is this okay with the rest of you, though?  I mean, this isn’t just about me.  It affects all of us.”

Harry, wash the shit out of your ears, mate.  We said we weren’t singing if you weren’t.  We’re behind you one hundred percent, whatever you decide to do,” Niall says.

Harry hugs all of the boys and takes a deep breath.  “Okay then.  Let’s do this.”  He texts Louis, asking if he's busy.

_No, what’s up? Is something wrong? I thought you were going on soon._

_Nothing’s wrong. Can you come on skype?_

_Of course._

Harry opens Skype on his phone and Louis starts a video call with him.  “Hey, Lou.”

“Hi Hazza, what’s the matter?  You look like you’re about to puke, babe.”

He gulps.  “You’ll see in a second.  I just- First, I-”  He looks to Liam, who smiles at him and nods, encouraging him.  “I love you, Lou.  I don't know how or why, but I love you, I do.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  Not this band," he looks up, “no offense, mate.”  Liam laughs.  “But really, I love the boys and I love this band, but I love you more, which is why you need to see this.  And I’m sorry I’m telling you this over the phone, but I needed to tell you now.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and hands his phone off to Liam before he starts walking toward the stage.  “Wait!”  He stops and looks back at his phone.  Harry raises an eyebrow, questioning.  “I love you too, Harry.”  He beams at his phone and blows a kiss before skipping over to the stage.

Harry walks out onto the stage to uproarious applause.  He waits for it to die down some before starting.  He clears his throat, “Uh, hello everyone.”  More applause.  “Well, uh, I wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight, but I, um, I have something to say before we start.”

He takes a deep breath, and looks over to Liam and his phone where Louis is smiling fondly at him and giving him a thumbs up.  He guesses Liam filled him in on what he’s doing.  With Louis’s encouragement, he continues, “We almost didn’t have a show tonight.”  Gasps.  A couple of shrieks.  "I know, I know.  Sorry about that.  We _are_ having a show tonight, but um, first I have something I need to say.”  He takes a deep breath.  “See, I- I’ve fallen in love with someone.”  ‘Aww’s from almost the entire audience.  He looks offstage to his phone again and sees Louis smiling at him, nodding for him to continue.

“Um, I know many of you think I’m this giant flirt who dates loads of girls and would never settle down, and for a while, I started thinking that too, but see, the thing is, that’s not me.  That’s not who I wanted to be; it was just an image.  And it took the right boy for me to figure that out.”  More ‘aww’s, a few gasps, and finally mass confusion spreads throughout the theater.  “Um, yeah, so that’s the other thing.  I'm actually...well, I guess the best label is pansexual, which um, just means that I’m attracted to _people_ , gender isn’t really an issue.”  Harry clears his throat.  “Right, so if that’s, uh, going to be a problem for you, you can exit the theater now before we start...  I couldn’t keep lying about myself anymore.  So, uh, thanks.”

It isn’t the most eloquent speech Harry’s ever given, but he’s proud of himself.  He puts his mic back in its stand and steps back, waiting for people to clear out, but to his surprise, only a few people are leaving.  Maybe fifty of the some 6,000 they’re here to sing for.  Then, a few people in the front begin to stand and clap.  More and more, people begin standing and clapping, cheering, screaming Harry’s name.

Harry can’t believe it; he’s completely taken aback by the response.  This isn’t what he’d expected at all.  A few slurs, half the theater emptying, yes; overwhelming acceptance?  Not in his wildest dreams.  He wipes the start of the tears from his eyes, wondering when he became such a sap, and takes his phone from Liam, who had wandered onto the stage while people were cheering.  Zayn and Niall join them as well, all of them putting their arms around one another, patting Harry on the back, hugging him.  Harry just stares down at his phone.

“So, what did you think?”

“I can’t believe you did all this for me, for us.  Well, for _you_ , most importantly, but-”

“No, you’re right.  It _was_ for you.  I _should've_ done it for me a long time ago, but I wasn’t ready.  I wasn’t brave enough, too afraid of the band being rejected, of being rejected myself.  But now I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter.  You showed me that, Lou.  You showed me how to be open about myself, how to love and be loved.  I love you so much.”

“I love you too.  Now go break a leg, eh?”

Harry smiles.  “Thanks!”  He closes Skype and turns his phone off.

He walks back up to the mic stand and says, “So, who’s ready for the real show to begin?”

* * * * *

The rest of the show runs smoothly and Harry is practically bouncing the entire ride home, itching to get home to Louis.

When they pull in front of his building, Harry jumps out of the van, bags forgotten, and runs for his door.  Luckily, he and Louis are on the same page, so he doesn’t even need to get his key out and open the door.  Louis opens the door as Harry runs toward him.  He just opens his arms and Harry practically jumps into them.  He wraps his arms around Louis’s neck and kisses him. Louis pulls him off his feet, which Harry wraps around Louis’s slim waist, and Louis shuts the door.

He presses Harry’s back against the door and Harry starts kissing down Louis’s neck, mumbling, “Bed.  Right now.  Or I’m making love to you in the fucking entryway.”

“Making love?  Why, Mr. Styles, I do declare!” Louis mocks.

“Shut up, asshole.”  He hops down and holds Louis’s face, looking into his eyes. “I love you.  I love you so fucking much.”  Louis’s face breaks into the brightest, most beautiful smile Harry’s ever seen (and okay, he’s biased, but really) and says, “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry pulls Louis into his bedroom and they fall together on the bed, a tumble of limbs.  “I want you tonight, okay?” Harry asks.  For once, he doesn’t want to be on top.  He wants Louis in and all around him, surrounding him until he almost can’t breathe from it.

“Anything you want, love.”

“I just want you, Lou.”  Louis smiles and rolls on top of Harry and kisses him.  He immediately licks into his mouth, gliding their tongues against one another.  He sucks on Harry’s tongue making him whimper.

Harry pulls Louis closer to him, digging his fingers into his ass.  “Please, baby, I want you.  I _need_ you.”  Louis nods and grabs the lube from the bedside table.  He pours some onto his fingers and rubs them together, warming it.  He reaches toward Harry, who shakes his head.  “No, I just want you.”

“Harry...”

“It’s fine.  Please?”

Louis strokes Harry’s hair with his clean hand.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  I never want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.  Just go slow?”  Louis nods and lubes himself up, leans over Harry, hovering near his entrance.  “I love you.”

Louis presses into him and whispers, “I love you, too, Harry.”  He makes several excruciatingly slow drags, feeling Harry tight around him.  “Baby, you feel so good.”

Harry whimpers as Louis presses farther into him.  “So do you.  Kiss me.”  Louis is happy to oblige his boyfriend.  He keeps up the sweet, slow pull and drag of his hips, allowing them both to feel absolutely everything.

Harry feels like every one of his nerve endings is tingling, like he’s feeling everything all at once.  It’s too much and it’s not enough and it’s everything and it’s perfect.  Louis presses their lips together as their hips meet once more.  They climax simultaneously whispering desperate pleas and affections into each other’s mouths.

Louis slides out of Harry and lies beside him, pulling Harry’s head onto his chest.

As they’re lying in the afterglow, about to succumb to sleep, Harry whispers into Louis’s shoulder, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finding me, when I didn’t know I was losing myself.  For rescuing me, when I didn’t know I needed saving.  For loving me, when I didn’t even know what love was.”

Louis cups Harry’s face and kisses him.  “Well then, you’re welcome.  And thank you for loving me back.”

Harry scoffs, “As if anyone could help, but love you.”

“Well, they better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  See, I’ve got this wonderful boyfriend who loves me very much, but he’d be awfully jealous if thousands of boys started falling at my feet, groveling for my attention.”

Harry huffs out a laugh.  “Sounds a little possessive.”

“It’s okay.  I’m his, but he’s mine too.  It’s a mutual possession; we’ve discussed it.”  Harry kisses his boyfriend one last time and falls asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
